"Haven't we been here before?" Theon questioned, looking at a dead end.
"No. . . I don't think so," one of his associates responded.
"Of course we've been here before!" Another screamed. "You went the wrong way!"
Theon swung the torch around, trying to retrace their steps. His stomach rumbled, remembering he was out of food. How long they had been trapped in the catacombs, he did not know. Had it been hours? Days? "Well, it obviously isn't this way." Theon felt the concrete wall mocked his efforts to enter King's Landing.
He kicked aside a nearby skull, part of him wondering if he would soon join the dead inside. No, I will not die so easily. In a little while, we'll find Sansa. The torch dimmed, providing only a slight amount of light. Theon knew it wouldn't be long until it went out for good. And then. . .
"We're all doomed, aren't we?" Someone gulped.
"We'll be fine," Theon tried to say, but had his own doubts. He paused, trying to remember where their last turn was. Perhaps going in here wasn't such a great idea. He'd expected to take guards by surprise, not get lost in. . . wherever they were.
Each footstep echoed throughout the catacombs. Conversation faded, with hope and terror in Theon's heart. With no torches to light their way, they were forced to find their way back through memory. "We got to get out of here soon, or we're never leaving."
Theon thought it over for a minute. "All right, we'll leave and figure out another way to rescue Lady Sansa." A polite lie. Once they made it out- if they made it out- Theon intended to retreat back to Robb and report his failure. Yes, his adopted brother would be angry, but it was preferable to dying in this godsforsaken place.
His foot missed a step and Theon stumbled, slamming his knees on the rock. Closing his eyes and holding the pain back, he allowed one of the men to assist him. Theon moved the torch forward, spotting. . . "By the Gods!" He jumped back, fearing an assault.
"The hell is that?"
"It's. . ." Theon spotted teeth nearly as long as he was. "I think this is where all the dragon skulls were put." Considering the size, he realized it could be no other dragon than Balerion. Its snout had been destroyed, but the skull was otherwise intact. Despite their situation, Theon opened his mouth in awe. Little wonder the dragons were so feared.
"I knew you'd find your way here eventually, Theon Greyjoy," a voice echoed through the catacombs. Theon dropped the torch and raised his bow at their unknown visitor.
"What do you want?" Theon demanded. "Take us to the Red Keep!" A Stark bannerman picked up the torch, carrying it high enough for Theon to make out their visitor. He stared at a portly man wearing a hood, seemingly unconcerned about the bows pointed in his direction.
"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Theon," he smiled. "You see, if I did that, you'd attempt to rescue Sansa Stark and that I cannot allow."
"And what makes you think you're going to stop me?" Theon kept up his bravado. Only a trace of fear was visible. Whoever this was, he knew his way around when they didn't. "If you help us, you'll be richly rewarded."
"No doubt I would be, but if Lady Sansa isn't dead yet, she soon will be." He expressed a regretful sigh, Theon unable to tell if it was sincere. "It is always the innocent who suffer the most in war. I would have preferred to spare Lady Stark, but circumstances have forced my hand." A man raised his sword and charged forward, only to be killed by two arrows to the throat.
Theon warred with himself to figure out if he could get away with killing whoever they were. Among his party, a couple were primed for action, but most appeared too terrified to move. He searched for whoever his allies were, finding no sign of them.
"I've been watching you for some time," the man confessed. "Quite brave of you to try and rescue a member of the family who kept you as hostage."
"Why are you doing this?" Theon stalled for time while trying to figure out what to do. For all he knew, they had enemies in all directions. Two of his men looked behind them, swinging their swords wildly in hopes of hitting someone.
"Sansa Stark is still infatuated with Joffrey. Given time, she might succeed in forming peace between House Stark and Lannister. That I cannot allow." A third man moved to attack, raising his shield. He was only four feet away from their attacker when more arrows hit him in the back. As if nothing happened, the man went on: "Robb Stark will soon receive a letter from Joffrey bragging about this."
"Regardless of what you've done, you won't be around to enjoy it!" Theon threatened. "I'll get out of here and reveal the truth."
"Do you think I'd be telling you this if there was any possibility you could change the outcome? More innocent blood will spill, I know this, but it is necessary. I have only ever served the realm rather than my own ambitions." For the first time, Theon spotted his attackers. None of them looked over twelve, holding crossbows.
He realized there was no escape, even if they did somehow manage to overpower them. Theon fired his bow directly at the man's heart, intending to take him down as well. One of his children dived in front, the arrow penetrating his shoulder.
Theon felt a horrible pain emanating from the back of his neck. He could hear his men's cries of rage and wished to fight, but his muscles refused to cooperate. The last thing he observed was the man's smile.
XXXXXXXXXX
Not quite up to my usual standard. Jaime observed his four opponents struggling to recover from their blows. He threw the tourney sword down, allowing one of the squires to put it away. Yes, he'd won the battle, but it took much longer than he was accustomed to. I can't make any mistakes next time I'm on the field.
He hoped that wouldn't be for a while yet. It had been too long since Jaime had seen his sister, yet there had been no opportunity to have her alone. Seeing her again pushed aside his regrets about Bran Stark. For his family, Jaime would do anything.
Things had changed dramatically since he was last in King's Landing. The royal court gossiped about the changes in Joffrey, that he seemed an almost completely different person. Jaime intended to be more involved in his children's lives, seeing how short life was. No, he could never claim them as his own, but he could still support them. There was no need to be so distant.
Jaime hid his annoyance at seeing the two Kingsguard members left behind: Preston Greenfield and Osmund Kettleblack. Neither of them were fit to wear the white. But I'm the one they label Kingslayer. During his fevered dreams, Jaime had been forced to endure Rheagar's accusations saying he was responsible for the children's deaths.
He marched up to the King's chambers to check on Sansa Stark. Why am I even bothering? The fact we held her was the only reason her brother didn't kill me. Before his escape, Jaime feared even that wouldn't hold them back much longer. He preferred to die in battle, not as a helpless prisoner.
Jaime glanced over at Sansa's chambers, seeing it bare. At least half a dozen men-at-arms had been assigned to protect her before Joffrey's departure, yet not a soul was to be seen. This isn't right. His ears perked up at the sound of screams. Unsheathing his sword, Jaime smashed the door in, breaking the lock with a single kick against the bolt.
Sansa's clothes were torn and covered in blood. At least four children had surrounded her, all carrying knives. Jaime swung his sword four times, each time dealing a fatal blow to Sansa's attackers. He had no time to ask himself what was happening, operating on instinct.
Jaime turned his head, spotting Varys behind a removed brick. The eunuch fled before he could act, placing the brick in its proper place, but Jaime knew what he saw. Why. . . How. . . What would Varys want to kill Stark for?
He knelt to examine Sansa. Jaime spared a glance at the other girl, but with her throat cut, she was beyond saving. Sansa's eyes could barely keep themselves open. She let out small gasps, in too much pain to scream. Jaime tore away her dress to check the girl's wounds. "By the Gods. . ." He counted at least eight knife wounds and the blood likely concealed more. He doubted there was anything that could be done for her, but he would try. If he'd arrived just a few moments later. . .
I pushed Bran out of a window and now I'm saving his sister's life. Jaime hoisted her up over his shoulder. He wondered what Lady Catelyn would think of him now. The Gods indeed had a supreme sense of irony. Perhaps I'll be able to run that by her; could drive her mad.
Sansa moaned with each step she took, blood spilling onto Jaime's armor. Those he marched part looked at them with curiosity but Jaime refused to waste time, not when saving her life was an unlikely proposition anyway.
"How. . . what happened?" Pycelle asked once Jaime reached his quarters.
"Varys' little birds tried to kill Sansa," Jaime explained. "I managed to save her just before they would have killed her. Can you do anything?" Pycelle nodded and looked over Sansa's wounds. The girl fell unconscious, which Jaime considered a rare mercy.
"Varys. . . I warned the Spider could not be trusted," Pycelle remarked. He gently wiped the blood away. "I'm going to need a tray of water and assistants to put pressure on the wounds."
"Do you think you'll be able to save her?" Jaime had seen enough battle wounds to know how unlikely that was.
"I will do everything in my power." Pycelle said nothing more, providing all the treatment he could give. Having done his duty, Jaime marched out to inform his family of new developments.
How could the Spider possibly have gotten inside? Jaime hadn't had the time to consider it when Sansa was being attacked but now. . . I've heard mention of secret passageways but I'd discounted it before now. If Varys could sneak through those, and if every room in the Red Keep had similar entrances.
"Why is there blood on your armor, Jaime?" Tywin raised an eyebrow, alone in the Small Council chambers. He continued writing words Jaime couldn't make out.
"It's Sansa Stark; she was attacked." Tywin set his quill down. "I saw Varys and his little birds trying to assassinate Sansa. Couldn't save her friend, but I managed to kill them before they could finish her off. Unfortunately, Varys escaped Gods-Know-Where."
"That man should have been killed a long time ago." Tywin got to his feet, glaring. Jaime could face down anyone else but even he wilted in front of Tywin. "How did he get past the guards on her door?"
"He snuck in through passageways in the Red Keep," Jaime explained. "The Mad King made him Master of Whisperers, so perhaps he taught Varys the secret."
"Learning where they go will be our top priority," Tywin announced. "This would explain the recent reports from my own spies. Robb Stark has left Harrenhal with all his forces and now marches toward King's Landing."
"How can that be connected to this?"
"I'm not sure, but I don't believe in coincidences. Were there any guards at her door when you entered?"
"No, it was bare. That was why I marched in. . . that and the screams."
"Have them put to the question and find out how deep Varys' web runs in court. No matter where they hide, his spies will be found."
"I'd like to know who he's working for. He certainly hasn't joined Stark, else Sansa wouldn't be about to die." Jaime didn't think it likely Sansa would pull through, barring a miracle.
"I look forward to asking him that question myself." Tywin thumped his fingers on the table.
XXXXXXXXXX
"I should have impaled that bastard when I had the chance!" Matthew screamed, pacing around. "Varys should have been burned alive alongside Littlefinger." He turned to Jacelyn Bywater and ordered. "As of now, your top priorities are to find Maegor's passageways and hunt down Varys' little birds. They have no tongues and can read and write. Kill them and blind Varys to further developments." Matthew knew innocents would likely be killed in the process, so he gave a momentary prayer for forgiveness for whoever was listening.
"Interesting; you're accused of trying to kill Bran Stark, but you saved Sansa Stark's life," Tyrion commented to his brother.
"Your Grace, the wounds are very serious," Pycelle mumbled. "I will do what I can for her. Maggots should be able to remove the diseased flesh, but Sansa lost a lot of blood." Sansa's eyes were shut, only a faint pulse indicating she was still alive.
"Do everything you can for her," Matthew ordered. "Perhaps Robb might be convinced we weren't responsible." He doubted it, but intended to try nonetheless.
"No need for it; this provides us with an opportunity," Tywin declared. "The boy marches toward King's Landing, overextending himself and becoming vulnerable. It seems the Young Wolf has blundered at last."
"And you're not concerned about outside forces manipulating us?" Matthew warned. "Like. . . whoever Varys is serving. He clearly wants us to weaken each other, so we'd better find out what his goal is. Stark and Lannister forces butchering each other is exactly his intention." He looked at Jaime. "Thank you, Uncle. If not for you, we would have no hope of averting a disaster."
"It's my duty to protect fair maidens. . . even Starks," Jaime smirked.
"Enough of your quips," Tywin rebuked. "It is indeed troubling that Varys was able to work out such a plan underneath our notice."
"He could be working for Daenerys," Matthew suggested. "She's sacked Astapor and Yunkai, and is marching on Meereen. She also has three dragons and Varys was appointed by her father."
"He's got to be working for someone, Father," Jaime supported.
"Who does it benefit for us and Starks to destroy each other?" Matthew pushed. "Varys did this for a specific reason. It doesn't matter which of us wins this battle; it serves his purpose regardless."
"He should have been killed long ago, but his skill at gathering information was unmatched," Tywin conceded. "Stark is marching to his destruction. He cannot beat us, either in a siege or in the field, not so overextended."
"Robb's beaten superior numbers before and I wouldn't expect any mercy from him now," Jaime reminded.
"Yes, because you were too eager for battle and glory, getting yourself captured," Tywin snapped. "You divided your forces and allowed Stark to destroy them piecemeal."
"Let's deal with the situation as it stands," Matthew interjected. "And let us consider that even if we do win, our forces are likely to be severely depleted, weakening us for further enemies. I don't intend to be another's puppet."
"With the presumed death of his sister, Stark is unlikely to retreat," Tywin reminded. "And the lion does not cow to threats."
"If Sansa lives, we can prove our innocence," Tyrion remarked. "Granted, that's looking unlikely right now, but that she's alive at all says the girl's stronger than she appears."
"In the meantime, we prepare for a siege," Matthew announced. "Stark isn't likely to storm the walls the way Renly was foolish enough to try."
"Shouldn't your new allies be here to assist you?" Tyrion commented.
"I have them performing other tasks." Stannis refused to be in the same room as any Lannister. Their alliance, if it could be called that, was still fragile.
"I admit to being impressed you persuaded the likes of Stannis Baratheon, but do not trust him too far," Tywin advised. "I am not convinced he has truly given up his attempt for the Iron Throne."
"Neither am I, but having his mind will be useful. Right now, we focus on slowing Robb's forces down. It'll take him weeks to arrive at his current size and they can be whittled away in the meantime. Grandfather, you're the most experienced commander here, so I will leave the details to you. I intend to prepare us for siege." Matthew looked at Jaime. "Uncle Jaime, I want you to look over Sansa, make sure Varys doesn't try to finish what he started."
"This I definitely intend to inform Lady Catelyn of if I see her again," Jaime smirked.
"Enough japes, Jaime; I want that eunuch found. We can offer a large reward to any Gold Cloaks who successfully find their way in the passageways. No doubt others will try and bribe them, but we can outbid any of their attempts."
"A siege is likely to last months. We'll need to keep order in the city, prevent anyone from taking advantage of it. Desperate measures weren't needed last time, but Stark has a brain in his head." Matthew rubbed his chin. "It's possible we'll have to expel some residents from the city." He didn't like the idea, but feeding half a million people was a difficult task.
They argued for a while longer, but agreed on their assigned roles. Okay, we've got maybe a month. Perhaps we could try and intercept Stark, choose a defensive position he can't bypass. Matthew knew if they made no attempt to contest the enemy outside, it could break their morale.
"Why are you following me, Uncle?" Matthew turned around to see Jaime.
"Your Grace, I am still a member of the Kingsguard and as such, it is my duty to ensure your safety," Jaime responded.
Right, I almost forgot about that. "Very well, I must speak with Uncle Stannis." With his position being so irregular, Stannis and Melisandre stayed in a small, nondescript room. The only notable thing inside it was the Lord of Light's banner.
The Queen's Men stared at him for a few moments before they allowed Matthew to enter. "What are you here for?" Stannis snapped.
"This would be easier if you were more cooperative," Matthew reminded.
"If you wish me to say anything further, you will speak to me alone." Stannis stared at him. Melisandre ran her arm along Matthew's, staring into his eyes. He felt like she was looking into his very soul.
"Your Grace, I must protest. . ." Jaime stammered.
"Wait outside, I trust you can intervene should anything happen," Matthew allowed no argument. Part of him wondered if it would matter, should Melisandre turn on him. He'd seen enough of her abilities to know at least some of her apparent power was genuine. With a worried look, Jaime obeyed his orders.
"You need not fear me, Matthew," Melisandre smiled. "I can see great potential within you, and much danger. Even Azor Azai needed allies."
"You told me you would set this realm to rights, yet I see little difference in the city," Stannis was much less friendly. "If you're like Joffrey, I will not hesitate to kill you."
"I've been a little busy fighting a war, if you haven't noticed," Matthew snapped. "Littlefinger's dead, although I should have killed Varys as well. Even as King, I can't fix everything, however much I want to. That much I learned when I first arrived."
"Nothing will change so long as Tywin Lannister remains. The rot started with him."
"I know you don't care for him, but all of us need to come together, else we're all screwed. I'm only one man and my abilities are limited."
"How can I be sure Joffrey has not regained control?" Stannis snapped.
"Because if I was Joffrey, I would have had you and all your followers killed when you arrived. Boy's a lunatic with no restraint. Now we can circle around each other and make threats, but that thought wearies me."
"I would know if the boy reigned once more," Melisandre promised. "Our enemy seeks to weaken us before the great conflict."
"With Sansa on the point of death, it's all the more crucial we work together. Many question why you spit on my offer, yet agree to assist me anyway."
"I care nothing for their opinion," Stannis shrugged. "And I would rather have not bothered to work with you even if you are from another world."
"Right now, we've got more imminent concerns. Robb will put both our heads on the chopping block, or worse. Sansa's unlikely to survive and we're not likely to persuade him I wasn't responsible."
"Our great enemy wants us weakened before the great conflict," Melisandre commented.
"Yes, and I'm hoping to end that threat before more lives are lost, but I see only one way to do it. More specifically, your abilities, Melisandre."
"Beware; the Lord of Light always extracts a price for such an act. My blessings are not to be used for trivial reasons."
"I hardly consider saving thousands of lives a trivial reason. We don't have long to prepare." Robb was well-protected, but Matthew expected one of Melisandre's shadow babies wasn't something he could counter.
"And I am forced to submit to you," Stannis grumbled. "Lady Melisandre insists on this path and many of my men follow her no less than me."
"The Lord works in mysterious ways, Matthew."
"Stop calling me that." Matthew whispered. He didn't need his secret getting out to everyone else. "Have the Stormlords agreed to assist?"
"Now that we are on the same side, many have bent the knee, but few are willing to get involved. I am little loved and though I am at least the rightful ruler of the Stormlands, they refuse to follow their oaths. When I return to Storm's End, it is something I swear I will not forget."
"I get the impression many are simply going to sit back and wait to see who wins the coming battle," Matthew admitted. "And I don't intend to be on the losing side."
XXXXXXXXXX
They're all going to die for this. Daenerys stared at the crucified child. The young girl was blonde, looking almost like a younger version of herself. Astapor was free, Yunkai's slaves had been liberated, and now it was time to finish the work of Slaver's Bay forever.
"Khalessi, we can have the ones ahead of us taken down," Jorah suggested. "You do not need to look at them."
"Strong Belwas will make Meereen's leader pay for this," Belwas promised, his many scars visible in the bright sun.
"I'll do it with my own hand." Drogon was big enough to ride now, although not for extended periods of time. Viserion and Rheagal were not quite there yet, but in another couple of months, Daenerys knew she could choose any of her three dragons.
"Your Grace, with respect, that may not be a wise decision," Bennero warned. "One of your dragons is big enough to ride, yes, but he is still not of fighting size, certainly not against a prepared enemy."
"My dragons helped seize Astapor when they were smaller," Daenerys challenged.
"They did, but only against an unsuspecting enemy," Bennero conceded. "Dragons are powerful, not invincible, Your Grace. Even the great Meraxes fell to a scorpion bolt in Dorne."
If I look back, I am lost. Rheagal jumped up and tore down the girl's corpse, taking several bits out of it. "Rheagal!" Daenerys rebuked, trying to pull him off. Rheagal snarled in response, not wishing to be interrupted from his meal. Viserion joined the fray, taking two bits out of a now very mutilated body. Both her dragons went to their full heights and roared, trying to intimidate the other into backing down.
Daenerys moved away. There was little she could do should her children choose to fight each other. Much as she loathed admitting it, her advisors were right. Meereen wasn't going to be as easy a target. "Khalessi, they are trying to bait you into making a mistake," Jorah declared. "They know you have a kind heart, something they lack. Don't let them use it against you."
"I won't. . . but this is a crime I will not forget, or forgive," Daenerys swore. Meereen was still a few days' away and with little to subsist on. They had destroyed their own crops, preventing them from falling into Daenerys' hands. Many slaves would starve, but that doubtless bothered them not at all.
"A gift for you, Khalessi," Daario handed her several flowers. Jorah appeared ready to cut his head off where he stood.
"I believe I told you what would happen if you continued such gestures," Daenerys scowled.
"You said you'd have my head," Daario grinned. Daenerys' heart fluttered in spite of herself. "You would execute me over a mere gift?"
"Thank you. . . but you're going to the back of the line. . . on foot," Daenerys tested to see his response.
"As you command. . . my sword is yours, Khalessi. . . both swords." Daario smirked and obeyed her orders.
"Khalessi, he is far too free around you." Jorah took his hand off his sword.
"And trust no one but you, is that it?" Daenerys sighed. "You have served me well, I consider you a true friend, but I do not want you. Is that understood?" Jorah expressed a disappointed sigh and nodded.
"Khalessi, it will still be days before we get to Meereen," Missandei informed. Unlike the others in Daenerys' party, she showed no response to the crucified children. Daenerys had learned to read people, a necessity for avoiding the wrath of her older brother. Such a sight provoked little reaction from the young woman. "Do I have permission to speak?"
"Of course," Daenerys smiled. The woman never spoke without being spoken to.
"This may take time to force the city's surrender," Missandei cautioned. "In the meantime, they have left little to subsist on and former slaves will go hungry."
"I will do everything in my power to see they are well-treated," Daenerys promised, although both knew it was likely to do only so much good. A protracted siege was more likely to be in Meereen's favor than hers.
Use your dragons and burn them, Death from above wasn't something Meereen was likely to have any way to counter. Drogon was small, but with his brothers, they could lay waste to the city's defenses. Her advisors considered her too valuable to put at risk, though. I'd save thousands of lives on both sides.
For the moment, Daenerys opted to listen to them, provided they had a way to end the siege quickly. Food supplies would only last a few weeks, as Astapor's council she appointed had been butchered and slavery resumed. Former slaves turned into masters and the cycle continued. Yunkai looked as if the same thing would happen to them.
Daenerys' bloodriders surrounded her once their travel resumed. She steeled herself for the next crucified children, telling each one that their fates would be avenged. Even after what she had seen, such cruelty was beyond her capacity to understand.
"That's because you have a good heart," Jorah assured once she spoke those words out loud. "Too kind for a world like this."
"Then we need to make a new world," Daenerys declared. Once Meereen was taken, she intended to march back to Yunkai and Astapor, and force them to end slavery. Such a plague on humanity deserved to be eradicated.
"Your brother spoke the same way. If Rheagar had been King, then perhaps. . . but honor is a luxury you will seldom be able to afford, Khalessi."
"I'll do whatever I need to do to get back what was stolen from me." The usurper was dead, as was Stark, but another one would need to be removed. Daenerys barely remembered his name, though it didn't matter. Another pretender unworthy of the throne.
"Slavery has existed for thousands of years, Your Grace," Bennero reminded. "Slavery of the mind can be difficult to overcome even after freedom. Many do not question the system itself but only prefer to be masters instead of slaves."
"I have already freed eighty thousand, all of whom will never be slaves again. Nor will I allow any of them to enslave others."
"Some use the Lord of Light as justification for this system, but he demands that each of his children be free. That is why he has chosen you, Your Grace." Jorah scowled, but tolerated the priest, for he made no sexual advances toward Daenerys. "Azor Azai freed many slaves throughout his lifetime."
"Then what would recommend I do?"
"There is no greater power in the world than the need for freedom. Against that power, tyrants, governments, and armies cannot stand. The Meereenese will learn this lesson, as will the rest of Slaver's Bay. Even if it takes a thousand years, we will be free." He took Daenerys' hand in her own. "They are counting on you, your people."
"I know."
"You cannot fix the entire world, Khalessi," Jorah warned. "Astapor and Yunkai have already been liberated and Meereen's defenses are much stronger. You still have the Seven Kingdoms to retake. With little to subsist on, how do you propose to win?"
"I'll find a way." Daenerys refused to hear any more of it. Only a quarter of her host were soldiers. Daenerys had yet to see the walls of Meereen, but refused to throw away those who followed her. Perhaps tomorrow I can scout out the area on Drogon. Surely they cannot object to something so simple. Even if they did, she would ignore them. The Blood of the Dragon did not cower.
"You don't need to be so frightened around me," Daenerys told Missandel in their camp that night. "You are not my slave, nor are you bound to me. You can live whenever you wish."
"Thank you, Khalessi," Missandei relaxed a little but only a little. "Permission. . . Khalessi, Meereen is much stronger than either Astapor or Yunkai. Breaking through its walls will not be an easy task."
"The Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the known world," Daenerys refuted. Grey Worm stood at the entrance to her tent, silent as always. "How many slaves exist within the walls of Meereen?"
"At least one hundred thousand, Khalessi, mostly Lhazareen."
"Then we have a hundred thousand reasons to take the city." Daenerys refused to be the kind of ruler who turned her backs to suffering, unlike so many others. Perhaps she could encourage uprising among the slaves, although without weapons, it would do them little good.
She told herself to sleep, but it would not come. The eyes of the crucified children could be seen even in the dark, mocking her. Daenerys promised many times to avenge them, yet they refused to leave her mind. Were her dragons of sufficient size, Daenerys would have burned all the masters alive for such a crime.
All three were kept away from the main host, for they only permitted Daenerys to approach them. I'll soon be able to ride any of them. It was a trait none of her ancestors had ever been able to claim.
Jorah stared at her with worried eyes. Daenerys knew he wished for her to turn back and allow half her host to die. That she would not allow, not when their liberation was so close at hand.
A knife flung out in the tent. Jorah moved in front of her, the knife going into his throat. Gasping, his hand went to the wound, sword unsheathed. Daenerys' muscles froze, the man ready to hack her to pieces.
Grey Worm intervened, their weapons clashing too fast for Daenerys to keep track of. She stood in place, unsure of what to do. The assassin had trapped her and tearing herself out of the tent would take too long. Nor could she leave Jorah to die. "Stay with me," Daenerys held his hand, willing him to return to his feet.
Her mind tuned out the sounds of battle. "Run, Daenerys Stormborn!" Grey Worm strained to utter, unable to divert his eyes even for a moment.
"G. . ." Jorah could say nothing more. With the last of his strength, he stood up, the fingers on his left hand covered in blood. Her would-be assassin focused on Grey Worm. "I. . ." He collapsed to the ground again.
Daenerys picked up his sword, nearly dropping the unfamiliar weight. A dragon does not hide. Grey Worm and her attacker dueled through the tent, its small confines constraining both of them. Grey Worm deflected a thrust with his spear, the assassin locking their blades in place. He reached into his sheath and sent a dagger into Grey Worm's eye.
Or would have had Daenerys not thrust the sword into his back. The assassin gave a small gasp of surprise, Daenerys pushing the sword all the way out of his chest. Grey Worm pulled the spear out of his hands, tripping. "You are safe, Khalessi," he had numerous cuts on his arms and legs, but that didn't seem to bother him at all.
Her enemy moaned, a hand reaching out to steady himself. "Who sent you?" Daenerys demanded, placing the sword against his throat. Meereen's masters would suffer dearly for this.
"J. . . King Joffrey. . ." The assassin moaned. His mouth moved, though Daenerys could hear nothing more. After sticking his spear into his throat, Grey Worm marched out to inform his fellows what had happened.
Daenerys returned to Jorah, the man's eyes barely open. "Thank you for protecting me," Daenerys' eyes glinted with tears. If not for her protector, she would have died that night. "You're not going to die tonight, Ser Jorah; I forbid it!"
"Khalessi. . ." Daenerys placed his head into her lap, screaming for assistance. She held his hand, the logical part of her mind knowing there was nothing to be done. Daenerys' tears fell on Jorah's body. "I. . ." She felt his grip loosen, Jorah's hand falling onto the dirt.
Daenerys kept her hold on Jorah's body, refusing to let him go. Joffrey. . . the usurper's son! The man who stole her rightful throne, and now murdered her dearest friend. "I promise you, Jorah, he will pay for this!" Daenerys screamed to Jorah's corpse. "I will crucify him! I will flay him alive! He will learn what it means to wake the dragon!"
She reluctantly disentangled herself from Jorah and returned to her feet. Daenerys still had a city to take, slaves to liberate. . . but when the time came, Joffrey the usurper would feel her wrath.